


Replacement

by hatebeat



Series: Putting the gears in motion [13]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>February, 1997. Dethklok begins to pick up the pieces after losing one of their guitarists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Hover your mouse over any Swedish or Norwegian text for an English translation!

_February, 1997. New York._

"Alright, I have a few things to discuss with you all today."

Dethklok's manager stood in the main room of their practice pad, lights dimmed and black curtains pulled over the windows. None of them had bothered, yet, to scrub Magnus' message from the wall. It served as a reminder, Nathan had told Charles when he asked.

The four musicians sat around the room, most of them at least appearing relaxed on the surface, but after everything that had happened in the past week, they were all at least a bit tense. 

Charles was made more than aware of just how tense the boys were when none of them spoke up or tried to distract him from the meeting. 

"I've booked you boys a gig."

"A gig?" Pickles echoed, as if the word itself was foreign to him, even though it was anything but. 

"Yes, Pickles. It's a benefit show for urban at-risk youth," Charles explained patiently. "One of the acts had to cancel, so I was able to slide you into their spot."

"But we don't have a guitarist," Nathan interjected.

"We have a guitarist," William argued. "Skwisgaar's the guitarist. Right?"

"Yeah, idiot, but we need another one." Nathan's eyes wandered briefly toward the red letters scrawled across the wall.

"There are still two weeks until the gig. I advise you do it; even if it isn't going to net us a big payout, there will be some big names there and considerable media attention. This could be just what you boys need to branch out from the Northeast.

"It's unlikely you'll find a replacement by then, so there are other options we can explore. For example, we could hire a temporary live guitarist."

" _No._ " Skwisgaar's fist banged down against the end table. "We doesn't needs thats. I can does it myselfs." 

The room fell silent and all eyes were on Skwisgaar besides Nathan's, who was glaring at the floor. 

"It would only be a supporting musician on stage, so there's no reason to-"

Nathan's hands clenched into tight fists and he looked up at Charles. "No. If Skwisgaar says he can do it, then he can fucking do it. Murderface can hold down the rhythm line. We'll be _fine._ "

Charles blinked. "Very well. Regardless, I was hoping to be able to plan a tour around this event to make the distance worth traveling, but until you boys choose a replacement..."

"Can you just stop?" Pickles said, irritated. "We've been through a lot lately. Just stop naggin' us. We'll play the show, you know? We'll find a guitarist when we fuckin' find one. We just..." Pickles stopped himself short, looked kind of embarrassed, and then decided to guzzle down the rest of the drink in his hand instead of continuing that statement. Whatever he was going to say, none of them could know.

"Is that all, then?" Nathan asked Charles, growing visibly more irritated.

"I suppose that's fine for today. If you all really plan to play without a second guitarist, I suggest you get back to rehearsing."

"Does you thinks I ams not goods enough?" Skwisgaar suddenly burst out, still sullen in the corner. "Because I haves you know that I ams. Don'ts need no ones, okay, not that stupid dildos Magnus, not anyones else. Fucks that guy. Fucks him!"

"Okay... uh, Skwisgaar? Just calm down," Pickles urged. "He's gone, dude. Ain't gonna see his ass again."

Charles took a deep breath. This had affected the boys, all of them, whether they wanted to admit it or not. He needed them to be able to pull through this. They had the potential to get to the top, and Charles knew it, but they couldn't do it if they fell apart here. 

"The show will be March 8th. We will need to be in Chicago by the 6th. Good day to you all."

Charles turned to leave. As he passed through the door, he heard William ask, "Hey, Nathan, did you mean what you said about me on rhythm?"

And it was then that Charles had a feeling that his boys would pull through just fine, in time.

\---

"We get a real tour bus?" Nathan asked stupidly, staring at the exterior of the bus sitting before them. They'd never gotten a tour bus before. So far, they hadn't toured outside of the Northeastern United States, and they'd had to do that in vans and shit like that. This was kind of awesome. 

"Yes, Nathan," Charles told him. "The label was pleased that we were able to get a spot in such a high profile show, so they gave us a little bit of funding for travel."

"Our logo's not on the outside or nothin'," Pickles pointed out, sounding disappointed. Oh, right, Pickles had done all this shit before. He'd had better buses, Nathan assumed. But still, this was really cool to Nathan.

"Well, it's only a rental bus. When you boys start making enough from your tours, we'll get you your own bus."

"Is there at least a minibar inside?" 

"Yes, Pickles. I, ah, made sure of that."

Pickles shrugged. "Fine by me, then."

"What are you assholes waiting for- let's check it out!" Murderface was on his tiptoes outside the door trying to peer into the window.

"Let's get your gear all loaded in before you boys get too excited," Charles instructed, but he opened the door to the bus for them anyway. They all spilled onto the bus, which was pretty plain on the inside, but it was still badass. There were some couches and tables that were built against the wall, and Nathan could see what he thought was probably a bathroom or something. Then in the back there were bunk beds. It was plain, sure, but it was their first tour bus, so he wasn't going to complain.

Skwisgaar walked in behind the rest of them, laid his guitar out along one of the couches without a word, and then stepped back off the bus. Nathan glanced around the bus once more and then followed him out, finding him wheeling his gear toward the back of the bus.

Having no gear of his own, Nathan went to help him, but Skwisgaar just shrugged him away.

"I gots it."

Nathan wanted to say something. Anything, really. But he just couldn't find the words for it, so he just grunted and turned away. Pickles was hopping off the bus by then, so Nathan went to help him load up his kit. That was usually the way of it, since Pickles had the most gear and Nathan didn't have any.

\---

"It's kinda small," Pickles said that evening, by time he was suitably drunk. "But at least there are only four of us, you know?"

"Yeah, if Magnus was here, this would be unbearable!" Murderface complained. Skwisgaar started to pick more furiously on his strings just at the mention of that name. 

"We're gonna kick you out next so we have more space on the way back," Pickles teasingly threatened.

"I think you guys should just stop talking about all that shit," Nathan glowered. 

So, they did. 

\---

After three nights of sleeping in bunk beds on a tour bus and being subjected to William's snores, the boys were starting to show signs of irritation. Charles fully caffeinated each of them the morning of the show, although he made the mistake of swiping the bottle of Jack that a very moody Pickles was pouring into his coffee. Caffeine wasn't going to help if he just made himself more lethargic from alcohol. Charles had tried to explain this, but Pickles wasn't having it.

Eventually, he had no choice but to give in.

This was a huge event for them, and Charles just wanted them to do well. But then he remembered that he had to let them have fun, too.

The event was planned around an outdoor stage, and the only real barrier between the musicians on deck and the audience was a chain link fence. The difference between this and a normal show, however, was that these were mostly not the normal brand of hyped up, over-energized fans. This audience was largely comprised of young gang members who were in various stages of rehabilitation, runaways, and otherwise homeless children, teenagers, and young adults. 

That in itself made this all much more simple and simultaneously infinitely more complex.

The event itself had over thirty bands performing: an all-day extravaganza. The simple part of all this was that Charles had nothing to do with maintaining security. The more difficult part was trying to accept that he had nothing to do with it and relying on others to make sure everything went smoothly.

The boys waited for their turn in the lineup amongst a whole host of other musicians of varying degrees of skill and notoriety, along with enough gear to make an enthusiast or a pawn shop owner come in his pants. All of them were tense, but there seemed to be an unspoken contest in place on who could show it the least. Still, all of them were aware of the elephant in the room: this was their first show without Magnus Hammersmith.

And this would be a new beginning for them all.

\---

 

Walking out onto the stage, Skwisgaar hadn't looked out at the audience at all. The wind blew through his hair and it obstructed his vision, and even though he knew that this was the biggest audience they had played, he didn't bother to look at them. He wasn't going to think about it, not any of it.

He had played a million shows in his life. This was just one of them, even if it was his first Dethklok show without Magnus playing alongside him. 

He had played shows in older bands as the only guitarist. It was no different. 

Nathan introduced them, and the crowd stood quiet, unsure of themselves. They were a different kind of act than the guys who had played before them. That was obvious, because Dethklok was one of a kind. He'd played in enough other bands by now to know that. So he wasn't going to mess this up.

Skwisgaar had a fucking responsibility.

So he didn't look up, not while Nathan introduced them, not while the lights flared up around them and bore down hot on their faces, welcome as the cold wind bit at his exposed skin. Not even after he started playing. 

The first song was the hardest, but they only had a time slot that allowed them three songs, so he had no time to let anything be difficult. Murderface's bass was no substitute for a twin guitarist, but Skwisgaar didn't focus on that. He focused on the speed and grace of his fingers flying over each fret. He played the solos as if Magnus was still there to layer them, but he played them even better.

He felt so energized that by the time the performance was done, he barely noticed that a hazy, cold drizzle had started to mist over his skin.

"Thank you, Chicago!" Nathan growled into the microphone, and that was the first time Skwisgaar allowed himself to look out at the crowd.

\---

The boys were certainly happier after their performance, Charles noted. Well, perhaps _happy_ wasn't ever the best word to describe this bunch, but it looked as if the life had been breathed back into them. He allowed them all to start drinking to their heart's content. 

It had only been an hour, and other acts were still playing, and the show was still going on, yet Dethklok's outstanding performance already had gained them some attention. Charles was on his cellular phone, finger in his other ear, chatting with one of the more lucrative local promoters. It seemed he'd be able to make this trip financially worthwhile after all, as long as the boys were willing to stay away from home a few extra days.

When he felt someone brush past him, he didn't think much of it; he was locked in a business discussion, and there were so many musicians, roadies, and various other staff members back here that it didn't set off any red flags in his head. But a few moments later, he heard a crash behind him, and he turned to see the boys laughing at Murderface, who had apparently tried some sort of inebriated stunt. Which wasn't a problem on its own, but...

"I'll have to call you back," he said quickly into his phone, and pressed the button to end the call.

There was a teenage boy there with no distinguishable security pass, and by the look of him, he seemed to be the same demographic as the audience. Meaning he was likely not supposed to be in this restricted area, and Charles was not willing to take any chances, not after everything his boys had suffered recently with Magnus. Not when Nathan's wounds were still healing.

He approached the boy and grabbed him from behind by his elbows, roughly, twisting his arms behind him.

"La meg gå!" the boy gasped immediately, struggling, trying to buck his body away from Charles. 

"You're not supposed to be back here, are you?" Charles asked the boy sharply.

"Wait," Skwisgaar interjected, taking a quick step closer. He looked down at the boy, narrowing his eyes in a peculiar manner. "Vad sa du?"

The boy relaxed suddenly in Charles' grasp, enough so that the act nearly caught him off guard. 

"Du forstår meg?!" the boy said to Skwisgaar, and Skwisgaar nodded in response.

"Do you, ah, know this boy, Skwisgaar?" Charles asked, fingers still firm around the boy's arms. 

"Vad heter du?" Skwisgaar asked, ignoring Charles' question.

"Toki. Og du? Du kan forstå meg, jeg er så glad!"

"Lets goes of him," Skwisgaar commanded of Charles. "I wish to speaks with him. Låt oss gå och prata, ja?"

Reluctant, Charles loosened his grip on the boy, and the boy turned to him with and grinned. "Takk!"

"Skwisgaar, as your manager, I have to advise you-"

"Stuffs it for nows, Ofdensen. I wants to talks with this guy. Kom med mig, Toki."

\---

Toki followed Skwisgaar through the crowd of people and wasteland of instruments and gear until Skwisgaar led him up into one of the buses lining the edge the fences. 

Toki looked around the interior of the bus in awe. A homeless little brat like him probably didn't think he'd ever end up in a place like this; this was a rockstar's tour bus, right? That must be pretty cool for this little guy. But once he looked around him and took it all in, he looked back to Skwisgaar.

" _Why did you bring me here?_ "

Skwisgaar shrugged and slumped down into one of the couches along the wall of the bus, slouching down in the seat casually. " _I wanted to talk to someone in my own language. You can sit,_ " he added, when he noticed Toki was still standing there awkwardly.

Timid, Toki sat on the couch across from Skwisgaar. Toki probably wanted the same thing, right? Skiwsgaar didn't really like the thought that he was alone in this. Being in America was great stuff, and he didn't particularly want to give up this life he was living to go back to Sweden or anything, but it was hard having to speak English all the time.

" _Yeah, that makes sense,_ " Toki said. " _I haven't gotten to talk to anyone in a long time, either. Where are you from_?"

" _Sweden._ " This boy couldn't tell? " _You're Norwegian?_ "

Toki nodded once. " _From near Lillehammer. I... came here a few years ago._ "

A few years? Skwisgaar looked the boy over, but he just looked young no matter how Skwisgaar looked at him. " _How old are you?_ "

" _Sixteen. You? How old are you?_ "

Skwisgaar had to think about it for a second. " _Twenty-three. So, what, you're here because you're one of those homeless kids or something? Or in a gang? Do you even give a shit about music?_ "

Toki sat forward a little bit and his eyebrows knit together. " _I do, too! I play guitar! Well, I don't play it like you do. I came and snuck backstage because you were so good that I wanted to meet you. I've only been playing since I was thirteen._ "

Skwisgaar looked at Toki closely, looking like he was contemplating that. " _I've only been playing since I was fourteen, too. So, maybe one day you'll be better than me._ "

" _You think so?_ " Toki asked eagerly, his whole face lighting up.

Skwisgaar didn't really think so, but he couldn't really bear to say that to this kid, for some reason. " _Sure, I guess it's possible._ "

Still, even though he didn't think this kid would ever be as good as him, he already had a weird feeling, like maybe this was fate or something, like the gods brought the two of them together. It was such a weird place to find another Scandinavian, especially another young guitarist. Skwisgaar couldn't help but think too far into it. He didn't like to consider himself spiritual, but the truth was...

Ever since he had started playing guitar, he knew that the gods had a plan for him. So, he was receptive to it.

" _I practice every night before I go to sleep, after I finish all my homework,_ " Toki told him eagerly. Skwisgaar nearly laughed thinking about things like homework and whatnot. It was just so cute. It had been so long since he'd even considered such things, but the kid was only sixteen.

" _Yeah? Well, what do you plan on doing after you finish high school?_ "

Toki sat back in his chair, looking like he was really thinking hard about it. " _I don't really know. I like animals, so maybe I could be a veterinarian or something... but I don't really want to..._ "

Skwisgaar scoffed. He just couldn't help it. " _Do you even speak English?_ "

" _I speak a little bit! I'm working really hard at it, okay?_ " Toki was defensive enough about the subject that Skwisgaar knew: he was probably working about as hard on it as Skwisgaar had when he was in high school. As in, pretty much not at all.

" _Well, how about this. Why don't you become the guitarist for Dethklok?_ " Skwisgaar suggested, even though he knew he needed his bandmates' approval before any kind of decision was made.

Toki cocked his head, and honestly, it was cute, but this kid was just still such a kid... " _But you're the guitarist for Dethklok_."

" _Yeah, I am. But you can be the rhythm guitarist. If you want to._ "

" _Seriously?_ " Toki looked skeptical, but excitement rapidly spread over his features. " _That would be so awesome!_ "

" _Probably,_ " Skwisgaar conceded. " _But if we let you in, you've got to promise me something._ "

" _Oh, okay. I'll do anything,_ " Toki said eagerly.

" _We'll only speak English together, you and me. We both need to improve. Right?_ "

The two of them could improve their English together, and maybe, just maybe, this brat could help him improve on guitar. Even if it only meant staying ahead of his progress.

\---

Nathan was still sober, even if Pickles and Murderface were wasted beyond belief. Charles had followed Skwisgaar off to stand guard outside the tour bus while he talked to that kid, so someone had to be responsible. Or something like that. Not that Nathan would ever admit to being responsible. Because he _wasn't_.

But responsible or not, Murderface had provoked Pickles to the point where he was close to attacking him, so Nathan had had to separate them, and just in the nick of time, he saw Charles marching back toward them from across the sea of backstage assholes. 

Charles met Nathan's eye when he approached, his face far too serious for anything good to come of it, but Skwisgaar was right behind him. And... damn, that kid was still with him? What the hell was going on here?

Nathan nodded to Charles, but it was Skwisgaar who he looked in the eye.

"What the hell were you doing with that kid for so long? Molesting him or something?" Heh, he was just a dumb kid and all.

"Noes, maybe you wants to does that. But noes. I gots a big news, you guys, so listens ups, everyone."

Nathan frowned, but he slapped Murderface in the head and elbowed Pickles in the side to make them stop fooling around.

"Yeah, so, what is it?" Pickles asked, rubbing his ribs, but slurring his words, badly.

Skwisgaar narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, and Nathan knew it was something serious.

"I gots us a new rhythms guitarists."


End file.
